


The Pegasus Maiden's Royal Lover

by Phrenotobe



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrenotobe/pseuds/Phrenotobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sumia reads novels with innocuous dust jackets. "How to train your Pegasus" is regularly found in her hands, though only those with sharp eyes would notice how the relative thickness of the books seems to change over time. She carries them with the same careful attention that she gives to creatures and delicate things.</p>
<p>Or, Sumia and Say'ri grow to know each other through a chance meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stagprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stagprince/gifts).



> A blessing and a curse to my brother who introduced me to this game.

Sumia reads novels with innocuous dust jackets. "How to train your Pegasus" is regularly found in her hands, though only those with sharp eyes would notice how the relative thickness of the books seems to change over time. She carries them with the same careful attention that she gives to creatures and delicate things, tucked into her saddlebags and wrapped up when the march begins again.  
In an army, it's usual to double up sometimes, and everybody is in everybody else's business. There's enough odd habits to be found among the Shepherds that it's not surprising that when Tiki is off on the campaign and Say'ri is fretting herself into a froth, Sumia finds herself lingering awkwardly by their tent, watching her check over their supplies again and again.

Say’ri’s attention keeps moving from blades to armor to potions and back to the start. Sumia had seen it before - Cordelia did things like that too. It isn’t a good omen, but everybody copes with loss differently.  
"Say'ri?" Sumia peeps timidly, a hand on the notched training pole by the tent flap as she leans forward to try and get her notice. With the bustle inside, it takes more than one call to catch her attention. When at last Sumia gets it, Say'ri becomes silent and still, a hand lowering to touch the hilt of one sword.  
"Knight?" she says, in a low, soft purr.  
"Yes, I'm Sumia," she says, and took a little step forward, "I noticed you were alone, and-OH!"  
The treacherous earth pulls her down, a long moment as she falls weightless and expecting the clatter on impact - her book flying in a sympathetic arc to land on the tent floor with a paper splash. A sudden stop and a sharp scratch later, and a work-calloused hand with somehow perfect nails extends to help her up. Sumia sighs, and allows herself to be led to a barrel and sat down. 

"'Twas quite a fall," Say'ri comments with a minimum of social grace as she hands Sumia a vulnerary to take care of her scratches, though they'd heal fast enough on their own. It takes the sting away, so Sumia accepts it, knowing that in all likelihood, she's just the replacement of somebody for the Swordmaster to fret over.  
"I'm used to it," she says, folding her hands neatly afterward, "It's fine, honestly, don't worry about me."  
Say'ri gives her a nod, turning away for moments to dip and pick up things dislodged in the chaos.  
"Your book," she adds, offering it at a respectful distance for Sumia to take, "It seems unharmed."  
Sumia turns it over, and the cover rolls up and peels away. She laughs, trying to tuck The Pegasus Maiden's Royal Lover back into the instruction manual's papery embrace before the cover betrays her. Say'ri arcs a telling eyebrow, and Sumia's heart sinks to the floor.  
"I'm holding on to it for somebody," she says, very quietly.  
Say'ri gives Sumia a small smile, one that says, despite the difference in their cultures, that she can tell a hurried lie from the truth, and that Sumia is weak in the telling.  
“Do you enjoy such novels?” Say’ri asks. She says it innocently so, as a casual inquiry.  
“Well,” Sumia says carefully, though her mouth starts to turn upward into the bloom of a smile, “I do read a lot.” 

\-----

Down by the paddock, Sumia quietly mutters to the new pegasus to greet it, who noses her palm for food and snorts in disappointment when none is then forthcoming. She whispers something nice to it, only to hear a whistle beside her. Both girl and steed turn their head to look.  
“Well met, Sumia,” Say’ri says warmly. She has a saddle and blanket under one arm, reigns in her other hand. She nods at the pegasus, as if giving it a morning hello over breakfast, and Sumia can’t help but have a light little laugh that quickly gets swallowed. Say’ri is dressed in standard pegasus blues rather than her voluminous coat, and it is easier to see the trim shape of her arm and the curve of her bicep as she puts the blanket and saddle on the fence.  
“Oh,” Sumia says, “Hello! I forgot to say thanks for the books you gave me to read-”  
“Think nothing of it,” Say’ri says, with a dismissive wave of the hand, “Have you finished them?”  
Sumia stutters to a stop, and her hand goes out to touch the pegasus on the nose again, for comfort rather than equine affection.  
“N-not all of them,” Sumia says, “Though, you know they are really poetic.”  
“Aye,” Say’ri says, “I have others that I have managed to save, but their bindings are wearing thin.”  
“That’s so sad...” Sumia says softly, “Would you be able to get it fixed?”  
“Perhaps,” Say’ri says, putting a foot on the fence’s lower plank to hop over it with a light grunt and a quiet rattle of armor as she touches down.  
“How are you, my proud beauty?” she murmurs to the pegasus, easy and gentle as she moves in to stroke the withers, letting her left sleeve be nibbled on without complaint.  
“You’re with friends, my loyal lady, yes.”  
Sumia doesn’t laugh, though she can’t hide a grin, and Say’ri realizes the volume of her indulgent chatter part-way through her next cooing sentence. She halts, giving the pegasus a curt pat.  
“Well, things seem in good order,” she says brusquely, a second too late.  
“So you’re going to be a pegasus knight like me?” Sumia asks, “I had no idea you were good with animals at all! I suppose some people really surprise you.”  
Say’ri nods, deciding that business is the order of the day, and sets about with the tack.  
“Well,” she says, back turned, “I find creatures easy to understand. A steed has never given me much trouble, though I’d wager my cursed tongue would be the root.”  
Sumia nods sympathetically, though her reaction is unseen as she makes a point of getting up to sit on the fence’s top bar, handing the pieces over to Say’ri as they’re needed.  
“I guess they don’t lie much,” she offers vaguely, “Or demand your attention when you’re busy.”  
Say’ri turns to give Sumia a confused frown.  
“Am I not paying you the attention you deserve?” she asks, hands still in action, lingering fingers scratching the wing-joints and lightly carding through feathers.  
“Oh, no, not really,” Sumia says calmly, “I mean, yes, but you need to get your pegasus ready... I was just saying hello, I don’t really need to be here.”  
There is silence for a few moments, while Sumia kicks her feet lightly against the fence and lets the absence of chatter grow longer.  
“I suppose you’ve done this before?” Sumia says, attempting to make conversation.  
“Aye,” Say’ri mumbles as assent, now focused on settling things just right.  
“I’ll just go, then,” Sumia says, “Good luck in the battle ahead, If you need it at all.”  
“As you wish, but I’d like your advice,” Say’ri says quietly.  
Already on the ground, Sumia pauses in her tracks.  
“You need me?”  
“I do,” Say’ri says, “I assume practise will perfect it, but I don’t think this Ylissean saddle sits the same way as one would from Chon’sin. You are one of the better riders in camp, are you not?”  
Sumia lights up in the face with a blush, but she allows the compliment.  
“There are people who are better at not falling down, but I think I can help.” she says.  
Say’ri breaks into a sudden and broad grin, and Sumia can’t help but think of Sully when she sees it. Rather than get right to task, it takes a few seconds for things to properly move along, as Say’ri seems for the moment stuck in place. The pegasus gives Say’ri a little nudge, to remind her that it’s still here.  
“I mean, this seems a little tight, since once the barding goes on it’ll have more weight on it...” Sumia says, “I mean, that’s how I’ve been taught.”  
“Could you show me the right way, mayhap?” Say’ri asks with overly grave seriousness, “If you have the time for it.”  
“Well if you want,” Sumia says, “I’m sure can spare just a little time.”


	2. Chapter 2

Risen continue to infest the battlefields and farmer’s livelihoods; for the shepherds, it is another place to stop and help on their way to defeating the source. It is good training, and better still a chance to learn more about each other. Cordelia and Sumia are glad of the extra hand with Say’ri’s vocational change. 

“To your left!” Say’ri calls to Cordelia, swooping a dive to block an incoming blade and enduring the hit. She coughs at the impact, using a foot to kick away the advancing knight into the path of Cordelia’s spear. Her hit lands, tip going under the armor, and slides home with a nasty crunch.  
They move forward again, the body motionless behind them. Up ahead, a wyvern rider with axe in hand advances. The axe flies from a low arc, and Cordelia’s pegasus pulls upwards with a swift, frantic stroke of wings.  
Say’ri holds beside her, touching the scratch over her ribs with two fingers as she waits for an opportunity to attack; her fingers come away with red but aside from the sting, nothing is broken. Moments later, Cordelia’s lance once again strikes true. 

Their group follows the shape of the bones in the desert, riding up and over the titanic arch of long-dead ribs. Say’ri doesn’t have a flattering thought for the view, tipping a bitter vulnerary into her mouth and feeling the itchy tingle of the scratch closing to a new scar.

Cordelia breaks from the group to scout ahead ahead, alert and wary, always the first to strike, checking up on the flow of battle. As the units on foot move to capture the higher ground, Cordelia signals to run interference between the advancing army and the Ylisseans. She works as though she can see it all from minutes ahead, always in the places where a vulnerable arm lowers their shield. Say’ri does as she can, unused to the reach of the spear and wishing that whatever the tactician’s plan is, that it is fulfilled and right soon.  
Sumia has a steady arm despite her own self-doubts, and as a pair they put Say’ri to shame. When the call sounds to retreat, Say’ri finds an open palm and a white-polished gauntlet offered to her in greeting.  
“Good job out there,” the owner says.  
“Thank you, knight,” Say’ri says politely, grasping it to shake.  
“Cordelia,” the owner of the glove fills in.

Knowing is half the battle, even if Say’ri can’t put a name to a face. She takes it upon herself to drill, becoming familiar with her mount and spending long hours in the pegasus enclosure. With all this time for deliberation and self-reflection, she links things together, even if she’s mostly unable to match most of the rest of the army in blue. Brilliant red hair, white polish and the scent of lilies - Cordelia, who is direct and always ready to help, seeming never to sleep. At first, Sumia has the scent of cut grass and horses, but over time Say’ri catches the nuance of flowers that grow by the paddock, and the soothing scent of hay. 

“For you,” Say’ri blunders quietly to her one day as Sumia ambles past, plucked blossoms landing on the page of Sumia’s latest book. It is still an early season, and without much else to do other than wait for a call to arms, they both find themselves occupied with more mundane tasks.  
“Oh,” Sumia says, curling her fingers around the edges of her novel, “These are pretty... I hope you haven’t fed any to the horses - Louie can eat them, but Pegasus are immune to a lot of poisons!”  
“Nay, I would not feed pretty scraps to a war mount, fie on me if I did,” Say’ri finds herself saying, finding her ease, “These are just for fortunes.”  
Sumia laughs, lifting one to look at it properly, beckoning Say’ri closer and tucking a flower behind her ear.  
“Well, they look good on you too,” she says with a merry smile, “Don’t you think?”  
Say’ri’s mouth slants into half a grin.  
“Though I don’t have your point of view I will take your word for it. Would I be able to ask for a fortune of my own?”  
Sumia laughs again, and it is beautiful and tickling all by itself - it pulls a laugh out of Say’ri too, who seems surprised at the sound. Sumia’s hand lands on Say’ri’s arm.  
“Of course you can! You’re my friend, I’ll always help you.” 

\-----

Say’ri follows Sumia as she hunts for a good place to do a reading. The pegasus blues Say’ri wears every day now still don’t sit so easily when she’s feeling self-aware, but she fills them out well - and Sumia’s clothes hold a similar kind of dusty pink to the things Say’ri has carefully folded and packed away. It sometimes looks cast over with grey, which reminds Say’ri of the comforting dullness of home. So much is brightness now - harsh colours, brash shades and sparks of firelight. Abruptly Sumia sits on the grass by the sturdy wooden pikes of a herder’s enclosure, and Say’ri stumbles in step. Being caught in reverie is only befitting of a fool, and Say’ri has felt much the fool lately. She dips to sit, and Sumia tips the flowers from her book to close it.

Sumia brings Say’ri’s hands together, putting the fragrant flowers into the cup of her palms and encouraging her to throw them upward into the air, watching the flowers as the breeze tugs them on their fall. The flowers scatter in a rough circle between their knees, beginning to curl and turn brown.  
“You’re... oh,” Sumia says softly, touching petals as they lay almost as a caress, “You’ve seen a lot, right?”  
Say’ri nods assent, quiet and observant as she leans to look, the dark curtain of her hair slipping over the angle of her shoulder. Sumia sighs, a note carried away on the quiet wind.  
“Please,” Say’ri asks, “What do you see?”  
“Well,” Sumia says, worrying at her lip, “Things seem a little muddy.”  
Say’ri puts her hand on the ground, twisting to pull up a lock of grass. She opens her palm, tipping it to scatter away.  
“Nay,” she whispers, giving Sumia a gentle nudge, “It is dry. I am not afraid of sour omens, lady Sumia. Tell me what I shall meet and I will rise to it.”  
Sumia’s hand reaches for Say’ri’s arm, pointing out the meanings as she knows them with her other hand. 

\-----

In the morning it’s a march to the desert; with Kellam sinking in the sand up to his knees and armor dragging everybody down, it’s up to those who are light on their feet to carry the day. Miriel and Ricken are a pair of black dots on the ground in some very big hats, and the pegasus knights are ordered east, away from the archers and toward the target. 

The skies are thankfully clear, sun blazing from above as they fly in the traditional formation of three, eyes narrowed against the sunlight. The wind keeps things cool, and they hold in place, waiting for instructions. 

“This is dull,” Say’ri says absently, watching a firey confrontation below.  
“This is safe,” Cordelia corrects.  
“I did not take to the sword to stay a cloistered maiden,” Say’ri says, honest in her return, “If we take our chance now, our action may yet bring success.”  
“Well, I don’t like the look of those knights,” Cordelia says, leaning to look.  
Say’ri tilts to watch for herself.  
“Oh, do they have short spears?” Sumia asks.  
“‘Tis an axe,”  
“Wait, what?” Sumia asks.  
“There,” Say’ri points, angling with her spear, “In his hand I see an axe, painted red.”  
Sumia lets out an unnerved peep, and Cordelia’s spear point tips downwards as she regards the scene again.  
“And you’d still enter a fight with them?”  
“Aye, and you would to, I’d wager.”  
“You’ve already been injured,” Cordelia says, “Don’t put yourself into danger.”  
“A simple scratch would not harm my aim. Are we not _knights _?” Say’ri says, her pegasus catching on and whinnying in reply.__  
Cordelia groans a quiet, long-suffering sigh, wishing for quieter times and milder flightmates.  
“If you must go, I’ll follow you.”  
Say’ri lifts one shoulder in a shrug.  
“A cluster is a denser target. I say we spread.”  
“Okay then. You take the center column, Sumia and I will flank.”  
“And you think I have the ability for the charge?” Say’ri says, amused by the notion.  
“Your tactics are sound, though I don’t know what to say about your bravery. If you want to do it, I’ll try your way.” 

  
This risen soldier is fast - faster than expected, enough to slip through the guard. It barks a cough of something foul-smelling as death and rot, and the hit lands, Say’ri pulling in a rush of breath that hurts on the exhale. Her mouth pulls to a firm line, and she urges her mount forward, twisting her body with a yell as she makes the strike. The monster decays in a twist of smoke.

“I’m sorry,” Sumia squeaks, “Are you okay?”  
“Get the healer,” Say’ri says bluntly, “If it would please you to be swift.”  
“Can you still ride?” Sumia asks, aware of Say’ri’s fumble as she slips her spear into the holster to free her hand.  
“I trust her, aye, but she’ll be making most of the decisions,” Say’ri says, taking the reign in a loose fist, the other hand still pressed flat to her hip to staunch the red stain on her tunic, “It was a worthy hit.”  
“Okay,” Sumia says, “Cordelia knows where we are. We should land... If you think it’s a good idea.”  
“Aye,” Say’ri says. 

Sumia is first on the ground, trotting to a stop as she watches for danger. Say’ri’s landing is straightforward and short, a bone-rattling thump as front hooves hit the ground before the back. She glugs a short noise at the impact, but stays quiet.  
“Please hold on,” Sumia says, pulling up next to Say’ri as quick as she can, a hand to soothe Say’ri’s frightened pegasus as much as she tries to help Say’ri’s condition with her other.  
“You’re not looking so good,” she adds to Say’ri, who despite it all is managing to sit mostly upright and hold in the saddle.  
Say’ri manages a quiet chuckle.  
“I feel even worse.” 

The battle continues without them, and Cordelia lands close by, her pegasus trotting neatly to meet them.   
“Is something wrong?” she asks, “Do you need a healer?”  
“Say’ri is hurt,” Sumia says, “It looks pretty bad.”  
“Take this vulnary,” Cordelia says, drawing it from her pouch with a glass jangle, “Hopefully you won’t need anything else.”  
Say’ri accepts one, giving it a wary glance before tipping the whole thing down her throat. She coughs, wiping her mouth with the heel of her hand, and regards her own arm sternly as it trembles without cease or intent.  
“There is much to speak about Ylissean remedies,” she mumbles, nodding her thanks.  
“Maribelle has been sent ahead with Chrom,” Cordelia says, “Can you hold out here for now?”  
She extends a hand with another, and Say’ri takes it without question.  
“Aye,” Say’ri says, “I can last the day. Go to victory if it calls to you, and I will stay here.”  
Cordelia gives her a nod, beckoning to Sumia to ask her to follow, and a moment later a shadow swoops overhead, overshooting their position.  
“Cherche will want support,” Cordelia says, “Let’s move.”  
“I’ll be back soon!” Sumia chimes, “Just hold on.”  
Say’ri feels the same, usual itch, the magic knitting flesh around the site of the strike, but the blood won’t dry, the pain won’t stop. Though the edges have come together as well as the potion allows, when she touches it gently, an edge of broken metal sends a stab of pain. An axe designed to splinter, if she knows the bite well enough. Say’ri shudders.  
The enemy is in rout, and she can spot the dark dots of the mages, throwing fire from the high ground. It will not be long until Sumia returns. Say’ri does as she is bid, and waits. 


End file.
